Off to Canada for three years late the next morning, last family get-together, all of us suitably sentimental. The parents left us alone at eleven, with the television going and the last of the wine before us. Mother wanted to make up our beds before she went, but we waved her away. The spare room had a truckle bed and in a cupboard blankets enough for that and the couch in here. We hadn't actually agreed who would have the couch and who the bed, Jess and I, but as she'd spent the previous night in the spare room I presumed I would stay in here.
Poor little Jess had broken up rather nastily a few weeks before, and in the day and a half we'd spent together, the first time we'd seen each other much in about two years, she'd got weepy several times and then got apologetic, and I had cuddled her. It was nice holding my sister. After the first awkwardness it was just like holding another girl: she wasn't angular or brittle, but soft and solid the way a beautiful woman should be. Her faintly freckled cheeks cried out to be kissed, not once but often, and her hair was lustrous and fragrant. Once when she had gone up north to live with Bob, back so long ago, we had kissed on the lips. I still remembered the specialness of that, and earlier today I had tried it again, for no reason, other than that she was in my arms and we were alone and she had said she'd missed me. She returned it threefold and we walked away to dinner.
Since then, conversation, and television unregarded, and good wine and a glass or so of champagne. After a while we all settled into silence mostly, and watched, nothing very rewarding, and when the killer killed again and the constable was chastised by his inspector and the credits rolled, our parents gave up the attempt to keep us polite company, and went off to bed.
We were left alone, Jess and myself, she leaning on my shoulder and me with an arm round her. We were not cuddling, exactly, merely close and content. We had been like that for an hour or more, interrupted only as I leant to pour or accept another glass for us both. Her dark hair was a river over the palest pink mohair jumper; beneath it she had a denim dress that at the moment just exposed the first contours of her knee. My hand rested on the jut of her thigh, palm across her midriff. From time to time I let it ride up a little and my thumb stroke her, and in doing that I could feel the roughness where her bra started. It was innocent.
After a few minutes of this she craned a little and kissed my neck. This we couldn't have done while anyone else was here. When she turned back to look at the screen I examined her profile, the elegant prominence of her nose, and dropped a kiss on it. She turned to me and our lips met; we lingered in this affection, then she reached for her glass. There was only a little left: she drained it.
'Do you want to open another?' she asked. My glass was only half full, and that was all there was.
'You up for it? You look tired. We should make the beds.'
'I'm okay. Do you want to? You don't need to be up early. How long's the flight?'
'Oh, five hours or something. Plus all the airport stuff.'
'Well you want a good time now. I hate airports. Let's open another.'
For this I had to remove her entirely from my body, and really regretted losing that warm companionship. She lay down fully on the couch where I had been and seemed to close her eyes: I wondered whether she could take much more. I poured her a small glass and refilled mine after hastily finishing it. It was Father's good stuff and I didn't want to do them the injustice of mixing them. She rose up to an alerted, seated position and looked into my face as she idly retrieved the cork from the corkscrew.
'I'll miss you so much.'
'You said that before,' I smiled. 'You're very sweet.'
'I didn't realize how much before. Just lying here thinking, about not being able to do this for three years.'
'We've never done this before though.'
'But I know we can now. I didn't know it felt so good. It's like the good bits after sex, but without the... the hurt and risk.'
'You'll meet someone,' I sighed heavily.
'I know,' Jess answered in a small voice. 'But I miss...' she added, trailing off so that I wasn't really sure what she missed. We'd talked about relationships a little but never about sex as such, so it has hard to know how specific she was being.
'Companionship?' I tried, then casually went on, 'Love, sex?'
'All of them. And trust.'
'Someone will come along.'
She sighed and looked out into the distance. The bulletin of international news had come to an end, monsoon floods and presidential primaries and the Horn of Africa, and now they returned to home news, cockle pickers and media frenzy and ramblers' rights, none of which we paid any attention to. We left it on for company. A film came on, and we still hadn't said much. I felt unsatisfied sipping wine and seated upright beside her, after the intimacy of earlier. Our last night seemed to be slipping past.
'Did you say you might be able to come out?' I said at length.
'After I graduate, why not? If I get a job. Can't go overseas on student grants.'
'It'd be wonderful to see you.'